


Suggestion

by Ballyharnon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballyharnon/pseuds/Ballyharnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Sirius apparently infiltrate a kinky death-eather orgy. Things go pretty much as you would expect.</p><p>Warnings: Dubious consent, pain and humiliation, and a whole list of kinks make brief appearances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suggestion

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started as a response to an anon prompt from hp_kinkmemes on LiveJournal in 2011. I've finally finished it and now I can't find the original prompt, so I guess if you've been waiting for years to see Sirius dom Remus six ways from Sunday on exhibition and under duress then this fic was totally written just for you. Sorry for the delay.
> 
> (Also: idk what to warn for, some things are mentioned or hinted at but don't happen. Please let me know if I need to be more specific.)

"Black? Is that you?"

Sirius froze. "Er, yes, of course--what can I do for you?"

"It's all right," called the masked fellow back over his shoulder. "It's just Regulus."

They weren't twins, but people had said they looked like twins for years, since the age difference between them had become less noticeable. It was a plan B which had occurred to Sirius before, but he hadn't expected to have to pull it off tonight. While the other man's back was turned he quickly smoothed his own long hair with a straightening charm and flipped the part to the other side, to further obscure the small differences between himself and his brother.

"What are you doing down here? Who's that with you?" the masked man indicated Remus, who stood in the shadows behind Sirius.

"I… have captured a werewolf," he tried. It seemed to work, so he added, "That's Mulciber, isn't it? Do help me put him outside, will you?" Sirius tried hard to look the part of a manipulable blood-spoilt lad as he slipped a hand into his pocket, thumbed the surface of the little mirror there to open the connection. It wouldn't take James long to suss out what had happened by what he could overhear, to arrange a rescue party.

Mulciber narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "Where'd you find a blasted werewolf, boy?"

"Oh," Sirius said, "he was lurking in the, uh…" he waved vaguely behind himself. He could feel Remus' disapproving eyes on his back. "I think he smells the food," he tried, keeping his voice as posh and childish as he could to cover his own genuine lack of a plan with his brother's cloak.

It was fortunate, really, that Regulus was widely believed to be quite stupid and willbroken, for Sirius was doing as spectacular a job of impersonating a harmless idiot as his brother usually did.

"Come on," Mulciber told him tersely, turning to make his way back up the secret tunnel. "Bring the beast," he added as an afterthought, in case it didn't occur to Regulus.

Remus gripped Sirius' arm and gave him a significant and somewhat angry look, and he shrugged and shook his head, threw his hands up helplessly. He pushed Remus in front of him down the tunnel, took charge of him like he really was a prisoner. He slinked his hand up to the werewolf's waist and slipped his wand out of his pocket, hid it up his own sleeve. 

Mulciber led them back up the tunnel and directly into the chamber Remus and Sirius had been attempting to reconnoiter. He tugged the werewolf forward by the collar of his shirt and hauled him into the middle of the gathering--it was a surreal cocktail-party populated by frightening figures in black robes and cowls, an evil court idly awaiting the arrival of its king. 

"Regulus has brought us a werewolf," he announced loudly as the silhouetted figures all turned, surprised, to face the newcomers.

A strident female cackle sounded through the hall. 

There was a susurration of low voices as the anonymous villains conferred for a moment, and then a man, tall and of elegant bearing, stepped forward. His mask was elaborate and golden, and did nothing to hide his identity, for his long spun-flax hair was unmistakeable.

"Well, well," the man purred. "It seems our evening shall be graced with some entertainment after all." He gestured to the two men who flanked him. "Strip the animal," he ordered tersely. The crowd closed around them.

Remus' eyes widened in surprise, but he dared not turn them towards Sirius. Mulciber shoved him roughly forward and he lost his balance, dropped to his knees. The other two flicked their wands toward Remus, and his shirt and robe undid themselves and were hauled roughly off of him by big hands.

A woman was stepping forward from the crowd, and at a glance, even with her body and her face covered, Sirius knew it was his poor quiet little cousin Narcissa, who'd been sold too-young to the Malfoys because she'd been born with white hair and bone-china skin and weird too-sensitive sloe-blue eyes. "You shouldn't be wandering about without your mask, cousin," she told him, voice low and slightly wavering, as she lifted a newly-conjured half-mask up to hide the upper portion of his face. Her white hand trembled. "You really shouldn't," she repeated, almost a whisper. Then she stepped back into the mass of anonymous robes, and Sirius lost sight of her.

He took a steadying breath. She, at least, had to have recognised him.

The two thugs were shoving Remus onto the floor and, though he struggled in their grip on principle, it was easy work for them to get the rest of his clothing off. They stepped back, and Remus was left on his hands and knees upon the flagstones, utterly naked and exposed. He sat back on his haunches, eyes wide with some unidentifiable emotion, cheeks flushed with shame or fury--or both. Sirius was glad he'd been given a mask, for he wouldn't have been able to hide his own shock. He stood frozen.

"There we are," Lucius commented fastidiously of the werewolf. "That's much more suited to your station, isn't it? Filthy cur."

"Ugh, look at its scars," put in another voice.

Remus' gaze shifted; of a sudden, he was looking at nothing, staring into the space in front of his eyes. Sirius thought he knew the look. It usually meant his friend was pretending something wasn't happening.

Lucius drew his wand, appeared to contemplate the werewolf before him. "I suppose we could use a new guard dog," he said, presumably to his young bride. He flicked his wand without a word, and Remus jerked backward, startled, as a thick collar of dark leather appeared from nowhere about his neck. He cried out in surprise, and Lucius flicked his wand again, stopping the sound by muting his voice. Remus couldn't stop himself bringing his hands up to tug at the leather; he didn't want it there, for werewolves are sometimes civilised but they are never tamed. Another flick of Lucius' wand and Remus' hands were brought together as manacles materialised around his wrists. He let his bound hands drop onto his thighs then, face shell-shocked and eyes wide.

"Put it to stud with your hunting hounds," called a rough voice from the crowd. "You can get a fine price for half-werewolf pups."

Sirius cast about in a panic for some way to stop this. James had to be on his way with the cavalry by now.

"A shame it's a mindless animal," remarked a throaty feminine voice. "It's quite the specimen." Her words were met with a chorus of disgusted groans and boisterous laughter.

"It _does_ appear to be enjoying itself," Lucius commented, wry.

Startled, Sirius cast his eyes downward for the first time--he had been unable to take them off Remus' face. His friend was impressively hard, for no other reason than that he'd been forcibly stripped and insulted? Well, _that_ was certainly interesting.

"What shall we do to it first?" Lucius mused. "Severus?" At this, a look of dismay crossed Remus' face, and Sirius on some level felt quite vindicated but now was hardly the time for _I told you so_ , for he was mostly just horrified at Lucius' suggestion. "Perhaps you would care to-"

"Spare me," interrupted a deliberate and nasal voice from far back in the crowd. "Please." It wasn't really a plea, though. It was a scoff.

Lucius shrugged elegantly and began to undo the first button on the top of his robe. It didn't appear to bother him at all that his bride was present.

"Wait," Sirius blurted, unthinking, and then he had to say, "Let me." Remus gave him a sharp and not entirely angry look.

"Why, Regulus, you astonish me." Somehow Lucius didn't sound at all surprised, though. At his gesture, another cowled figure appeared from the crowd, holding a riding crop out, handle towards Sirius--like a fencing master presenting him with a foil. Sirius took it automatically (and he nearly fell into the stance for a duel, for that was what well-bred young men did when formally presented with the grip of a weapon) and then he found himself standing over his dear friend holding a hunt crop, and with no idea what to do with it. 

He had an _idea_ of course, but, well. 

Remus had his head bowed as much as the thick leather collar would allow, his shaggy hair falling forward to hide his eyes. Sirius stared at him for a long moment, a strange, fearful excitement beginning to roil in the pit of his stomach. Remus' head was moving, he was jerking his chin down as though he was trying to put his head down farther despite the collar in the way. It almost looked as if… as if he were nodding… while trying to appear not to nod. Sirius' eyes fell again to the tempting erection, deep pink and trembling now.

"Go on!" The voice came from just behind Sirius, and the shout made him jump a little.

"Hit him, stupid!" A woman's voice, this time.

Hesitant, Sirius wielded the crop as carefully as he could, snapping the popper against the square of a pectoral muscle, just above the nipple. Remus would have cried out if his voice hadn't been muted. The sight of him opening his mouth to yelp soundlessly was startling and Sirius drew in a quick breath, now utterly unable to hide his own arousal. He knew he should be hurling verbal abuse at his friend as well, but he couldn't summon a single insult. "You deserve that," he ground out lamely.

It might have been his imagination, but it seemed Remus cast him an ironic smirk then, just for a moment.

Sirius walked in a small half-circle so that he was behind him. He poked at the werewolf's shoulder with the toe of his boot; he would have given him a convincing shove, but Remus dropped obediently onto his elbows and knees. Sirius shivered a little--oh, this was all so upside-down and backwards! 

He raised the crop again and brought it down with a snap against the place where Remus' left thigh joined his hip, as if he were a horse. He jerked away from the pain, again crying out without making a sound, eerie and anticlimactic.

"I want to hear your screaming, you filthy animal," Sirius growled, surprising himself. He nearly brought out his own wand to lift the charm himself, but he caught himself and waved an imperious arm at Lucius, as his younger brother would have done to hide (or to feign) a relative lack of skill. Regulus used the false authority of their blood to make life easy for himself, Sirius knew.

Lucius indulged him, and with the next snap of the crop, Remus' harsh voice rang through the room. He did it again, and again. The spring of the whip in his hand felt electric and powerful, like a spell, and his lover was twisting under him, submissive and responsive--Sirius had never seen him like this. It was Remus who took charge, who never gave up control.

"Someone summon a candle," one of the masked figures said then, and there was a movement in the crowd. The crop was taken from Sirius' unresisting fingers and he was presented with a blood-red taper in a large and ornate silver candlestick, half burned down and already dripping untidily. A narrow dribble of the melted wax spilled onto his hand, and he hissed an oath at it.

There was a smattering of laughter from the crowd at Regulus' clumsiness, that chirpy feminine cackle from before ringing loudest of all.

"You deserve so much worse than this," Sirius ground out. "You're evil. You're disgusting." He wasn't speaking to Remus at this point, but to the death-eaters, and he hoped they didn't understand that. He hoped Remus did. "Monstrous."

Another drip of wax hit his skin while he was distracted. "Fuck!" he repeated, the startling sting causing him to flick the candle towards Remus almost like a wand, so that the hot red fluid fell in a long streak across his back. His harsh cries slid straight down Sirius' spine and into his prick, and it was so perversely satisfying to feel that hot sting in his hand and to know that he was doing the same thing to Remus. He ached.

He turned the candle sideways over the werewolf's back, slower and more deliberate this time, and closer, meaning the wax was hotter when it hit. He let it pool in little circles as Remus jerked and shouted incoherently, his awkward pose becoming more submissive with each little touch of pain, with each harsh cry.

Oh, the sound of his voice like this was incredible.

"Fucking _beast_ ," Sirius said hotly, an endearment more than anything else. Again, he was glad of his mask, for he was staring with open desire at the sight before him, at Remus--calm, composed Remus--with his arse in the air and his heavy cock twitching between his legs, his pale skin flushed all over and spattered with deep red, moaning needily. He was, for once, not in strict control of himself, a luxury he tried never to allow except when the moon made it impossible to avoid. The reversal was in itself somewhat pornographic, and Sirius could have stared for hours. 

It was a sweet echo of the screaming contortions that he witnessed once--no, twice--a month. He wondered if he would ever see his friend's transformations in the same light.

A harsh voice brought him back to the moment, to the danger they were actually in, sweet as it might have seemed. "He's getting distracted, someone give him something else to do!"

"Piss on the beast!" came a man's gruff shout.

"Make it bleed," suggested another.

Sirius thrust the candlestick towards the crowd and someone took it from him. He paused a moment to chip the irritating wax from his hand, licked absently at the blotch of pink skin underneath. "No," Sirius said then, haughtily. "I want him to suck me."

"Werewolves bite, boy!" came a derisive chuckle. "Don't you know anything?"

"Not under the Imperius curse, they don't," Sirius pointed out, smirking under his half-mask at Lucius. Merlin and Morgana, he was breaking character, and hard, but it might buy them time. Where was James? He reached for his wand.

Sirius had the distinct impression that the other man raised an eyebrow behind his own golden mask. Lucius immediately flicked his own wand, casual and silent, and Remus rose smoothly to his hands and feet, like a dancer imitating a werewolf--the motion would have been a good deal more shambly and predatory, had he driven it himself. His eyes were glassy.

Godric's balls, of course he should have known Lucius would perform the spell himself. He was Regulus, Sirius reminded himself sternly for the second time in a minute.

Remus moved towards him, rising to his feet all big and imposing, seeming taller than usual because Lucius stood him up straight and proper. Fear lanced Sirius; he wasn't sure he could go through with it. He searched Remus' eyes, but if anything of his friend was looking out from there, he couldn't see it.

The werewolf slid to his knees, or his body did without him. Sirius moved to open his robe, to undo his flies. He was so numb and startled, and he so regretted the suggestion that had suddenly and without warning lost Remus control of himself that he thought his erection had flagged until it sprang free into the cool air. Sensation rushed back to him as long fingers cupped his balls, then gripped roughly. The raucous chorus of voices rose again at the contact.

Lucius pushed a fierce growl from Remus' throat, apparently wanting to keep him in-character as a vicious animal, and then he bent him down and pressed him forward, sliding Remus' lips around Sirius' shaft. Sirius swallowed air, throbbing already from the danger. He couldn't stop himself shoving a thumb into each side of his friend's mouth to prop his teeth from closing--he trusted Remus in any state, but he wouldn't have trusted Lucius even if he had been certain his 'disguise' was working.

Where the pissing hell was James?

Sirius was sharply aware of Remus' manacled hands gripping him too-tight, of his jaw clenching against his thumbs as his head bobbed senseless and quick. Lucius Malfoy had him literally by the ballocks, and it was terrifying, and that wasn't going to stop Sirius from coming hard over the edge any moment.

He shifted his grip on Remus' lower jaw, simply wrapped the fingers of one hand around the teeth and bone on one side, keeping his lover's mouth wrenched open wide with his knuckles--oh Merlin, the tattoos! They would give him away if anyone noticed them, and he couldn't afford to spare a moment's thought or magical energy on the problem, so he just shoved his hand harder between Remus' teeth.

His prick slid wet and crowded against his knucklebones as Remus' blank face was pushed rhythmically forward into the fleecy black curls of his belly.

He had freed his other hand and now used it to shove and pry at the tight fingers on him, bending awkwardly down over Remus until Lucius' grip released and he could hitch a foot up to catch the short chain between Remus' wrists. He stomped his boot down, pitching the werewolf forward against him as his palms slammed to the floor.

Sirius held him by his jaw and by the hair at the back of his head as he took control, as he switched himself from bottom to top by resetting who drove the motion. He thrust himself fiercely into Remus' throat, making his eyes water and raising an occasional startled gagging-noise. The crowd jeered and laughed and catcalled them, delighted to see soft little Regulus displaying some genuine vim and wickedness--or just thrilled by the sight of a being they thought inferior put in a place that looked low to them.

His eyes flicked up to Lucius. The man's wand was no longer glowing--he had dropped the spell at some point. "Fuck," Sirius grunted involuntarily, doubling over as the muscles along his abdomen suddenly tightened. His gaze flew down to lock with Remus'. The werewolf was glaring up at him, lust-fogged and grim and grateful and confused, but no longer clouded by absence--and not broken. He-- He _had_ been nodding, he was going along with the whole thing unresisting.

Because it was their best chance of delaying the inevitable fight long enough to be rescued? Or for another reason?

He barely had time to wonder, for Remus groaned low in his throat when he saw Sirius recognise that it was him, perhaps involuntarily--and that was it, that was too much. Sirius released his slaver-slick grip on his friend's jaw as his muscles jerked, as he felt the final swell. He pulled away to stroke himself fast, using his left hand in Remus' hair to pitch his head back, and then he was pulsing thick and hot against the conjured collar, his prestigious Black seed spilling against the leather and running onto the werewolf's neck and shoulder for the entertainment of the assembled.

Sirius realised immediately that this would mean they were out of time, unless he acted quick and thought quicker. "Bind him," he grunted to the crowd as he scooped his hand against Remus' collarbone, cupping up his own cooling spunk. "On his knees."

Conjured ropes slinked from all directions, slithered around Remus' limbs and torso, knotting together in lovely patterns and twisting him backwards, flipping him struggling onto all fours to spread his legs wide. A rough moan escaped him, and he apparently couldn't stop it sounding needy.

Lucius stepped forward now, but Sirius was young and hotblooded and already near fully-hard again. "I caught this beast," he told the death-eater. "I'll be the one to make a bitch of it, thank you."

"Why, Regulus," Lucius remarked, turning back with a measured step, as if it was his plan all along. "You hardly seem yourself tonight."

That strident cackle rang again; Sirius was sure now that he knew it. He didn't let himself react--if they were certain of his identity, this surely wouldn't have gone on so long. "Perhaps you've underestimated me," he said to Lucius, his tone steely and his cock standing proud. 

"Perhaps I have," Lucius allowed in a sweet purr. "You are the true heir to one of the noblest houses represented here, after all. It's about time you showed some mettle."

Sirius glanced down at his cupped hand, began casually to slick his fingers with the finest of bloodlines. "How's this?" He asked, cold, as he lowered himself over the bound and collared werewolf.

He slicked the tip of his blade in his palm, but he couldn't imagine he could get away with any real preparation--and it was rare for Remus to take him this way. He mounted up, holding himself in his fist and hoping their position, his feigned fumbling, would give him enough time. He pressed two fingers in together, quick and rough and twisting for only a moment.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into his friend's shoulder, low as he could, made inaudible except to Remus by the jeers and catcalls of the crowd. "Just a tumble," he insisted. "Nothing new." Remus was growling wordlessly and shaking his head with vigour, but what he meant by this Sirius couldn't guess. It might have been for show.

He gripped Remus' hip and pressed himself against his fingers, and then, in a quick motion, with Remus struggling convincingly below him, he was sunk to the hilt. The werewolf bucked hard as if actually trying to throw him off, making fiercely incoherent sounds and tugging against the ropes which bound him, causing them to tighten and pull his limbs farther apart. Remus slipped flatter onto the floor again, and Sirius pushed at his thighs to open him wide, began to fuck him in earnest.

He was literally going to murder James. James Potter was a dead man walking. Merlin--flying, hopefully!

Sirius lost himself in the tide of it, in the pitch and yaw of the fierce beast under him. He was certain now that his friend was acting, playing up the struggle, for he could feel the way Remus was canting his hips up and apart, could feel that the throb of his prick was echoed exactly, beat for beat, in Remus' tightening flesh.

He wanted to slip a hand around the werewolf's hip and stroke him off, but of course he couldn't, not with this audience.

He turned close into Remus' shoulder again, murmuring too-low to be heard over the noise, "I want you to come for me, darling--"

Remus' breath left him in a sob, and his head sagged as his whole body stiffened under Sirius. He would.

Another few thrusts, and Remus gave that jerky nod again, chin down against the collar so it looked mindless.

Sirius grabbed a rough handful of his hair and gave him a hard shake as he arched them both up onto their knees, the conjured ropes moving to his will, tugging Remus' long arms up. He drove himself in harder and deeper, fast and merciless. "Alright, dog, obey your betters," he barked, voice ringing through the room. " _Come_."

The sound Remus made was positively inhuman. He was there, instantly, and the death-eaters directly in front of him stepped back as he shot powerfully onto the flagstones, spoiling them with his wolf-taint. A moment later, Sirius was filling him, gruff and stone-faced--it was so white-hot intense that it hurt, an absolute lightning-strike. Remus bowed his head, panting brokenly.

A hush fell. Little else could be engineered in the way of distraction at this point, so Sirius and Remus simply waited, exposed and joined and on their knees before their enemies.

Lucius stepped forward. "I think that's quite enough of that." He brandished his wand.

But a strident and familiar female voice sounded then, the same bright, cackling voice that had been haunting the room. "Oh, can I? Pretty please with candied lark's-tongues on top?"

Lucius inclined his masked face and put a hand out palm up to yield the floor as the woman stepped forward. 

Her walk was hypnotic, her hips rolling sensually--the gait was too-familiar, and black curls trailed down from her cowl with a casual elegance. "Are you serious-ly," she gave a little titter, "that stupid? ...Sirius?"

His eyes widened in shock, and so did Remus', insomuch as it was possible, considering how shocked they had already been for the last hour or so.

"First," Bellatrix explained cheerfully, counting off on a finger, "none of us would believe for a moment that you're Regulus. You do look a little itty bit like him, but--oopsies!--he's on guard upstairs and we all just saw him wearing different robes, didn't we?" She put a hand to the mouth of her carnevale harlequin's mask and stage-giggled. "Mulciber's just half-blind is all."

She held up another finger. "Second, if you were your useless bitty baby brother you couldn't capture a werewolf, now could you?" Her voice had taken on an hysterical quality--she was forced to pause for a bout of shrieky laughter.

After a moment, she got herself under control again. "And _finally_ ," she concluded all haughty and prim, "do you _really_ believe we all just faff about having kinky orgies all night? Nothing would ever get done!" She cackled cruelly at them. "I mean honestly, cousin, what's wrong with you? Even _I_ wouldn't fuck a werewolf--on exhibition no less!"

"She does raise some excellent points," Remus commented quietly. His voice was startlingly mild, considering.

"Blood-traitors never cease to amaze!" Bellatrix commented to the crowd before turning her masked face back to the pair on the floor. "But the only real question is: are you just planning on letting us kill you, or are you going to pull your pretty little prick out of that garbage-heap and stand up and fight us?"

Hot rage flared in Sirius, and he knew his lover well enough to know he was lanced with it too, however well he might hide it. There was of course only one choice--they would fight, for if they didn't, they wouldn't have a chance to do any of this again. Sirius slipped the two wands from his sleeve, and with a startling blast from the tunnel entrance, James and the others finally appeared--and about bloody time!


End file.
